Innocence, Ignorance, and Sunshine
by pencilitout
Summary: Before was happy, After was numb, and Now was a fleeting moment of freedom. Her life Onward was spent longing to remember what she had once wished to forget. Because when she woke up, all she knew was her name; Alice. And in reality, that was a blessing.


What about Alice? Contest

Title:Innocence, Ignorance, and Sunshine**  
Penname: **penguinsonjupiter13 **  
Rating: M-** for some violence and mental instability**  
Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters, just the story line.**  
**

_When I was a young girl, I had an old soul. When I was a little girl, I had a big dream and a big heart. And when I was a small girl, everything else became a whole lot bigger than me…_

_The end of my ignorance began with my name: Alice. The end of my innocence began with a ray of sunshine._

_**All that came Before and all that is Now:**_

The sky at that moment was overcast, coinciding with the feelings of loss and desperation that I was experiencing in that dreadful instant. I was running, running, running to someplace better. Someplace where nobody thought I was crazy, where the shadow of my family didn't loom, where the terror that _he_ induced in me did not matter.

The people who had called themselves my mother and father didn't understand. They once thought that the things in my head, the sounds and pictures, were make-believe. Like an imaginary friend. But I didn't have an imaginary friend. I had these images, these instances, and this uncanny ability to predict what I shouldn't be able to. They once thought that it was all a fantasy of a little girl.

I was once a little girl, true. But what I saw was never a fantasy.

And I told them as much. But they didn't believe me. They never would have, if I hadn't seen the Sun Pictures. That's when everything, all that I knew, all that I saw and See, condemned me to a hell of my family's making.

I fell down in exhaustion, my spindly legs screaming for oxygen as the weak muscles protested this cruelty that I seemed intent on dispensing. They weren't used to running. Because girls who were once good girls, girls who were once well-bred girls from wealthy families, did not run around like ruffians. I was a good girl, they told me. My mamma was a good girl too. But I didn't want to be a good girl; I _wanted_ to be a ruffian.

But when I stopped being a good girl, I was something else entirely. And I still wasn't allowed to run, because _that_ time around I was trapped in a cell, surrounded by the tortured cries of those who probably weren't even able to hear themselves scream...

My life before and my life after were two very different things. And my life now is undetermined, but at the moment filled with what I can remember about Before. After can come later. In Before, things were good, my troubles were superficial, my yearning for freedom a very real possibility, my innocence was still somewhat intact.

And the only thing I feared was what I had to wear.

When they stuck on the stockings and the well polished shoes that cramped my toes I longed to run through marshy swamps and mucky ponds. When they pulled the canary yellow, ruffles and satin Sunday dress over my head, I wanted to jump into a lake and have the stifling material float me away. The bonnet? Curse the bonnet. Oh, I was a naughty little girl for cursing anything, even in my mind, but I don't think cursing the bonnet was a temptation by evil. No I think that the bonnet _was_ evil, and so should be cursed accordingly. But I never told my mamma that. I figured that Mamma didn't need to know.

I wasn't lying, I was withholding. Those are two very different things.

The only lies I ever told were nice lies: if my Papa asked how I liked his horrendous cooking skills, I would tell him that they were superb; if Mamma's lady friends asked me how I liked the mountains of bonnets they were always throwing my way, I would tell them of my undying adoration; if Mamma wanted my opinion on her horrendous, gossiping, old, fidgeting, cruel, and honorably _distinguished_ sister, I would say she was lovely. When in truth I hated my papa's cooking, I despised every bonnet those giggling fools dispensed on me, and I absolutely _loathed_ Mamma's _distinguished_ monster of a sister. And her sister absolutely loathed me in return.

But we had to be polite to each other for the public and private eyes… mostly. She always had a sneering disdain in her icy eyes when she saw me pluck hatefully at the bonnet. And likewise I always had a polite little "compliment" for her every time she so much as glared my way.

"_Miranda, what a…darling…child you have," the snob's voice echoed uncertainly as she eyed my raven black hair and skinny frame with distaste. I could tell that she thought I was anything other than darling. And I wanted to play her game._

_I had an unusual amount of deviousness for a child my age._

"_Why, thank you, Auntie! I find that you are just as darling as you see me; tell me, for although I am intelligent at my young age I am not very savvy people-wise, would that narrowing of your eyes, disgusted upturning of your protruding hawkish nose, and frown at your mouth indicate your love of my _darling_ self?" I grinned at her and Mamma tried to glare at the both of us; Auntie for disliking her little girl, and I for calling her out on it. _

_She looked a bit cross-eyed as Auntie huffed in disgust._

_The feeling was mutual._

I managed a little smile in spite of my circumstances at the memory. I loved besting Auntie; she was so easy to irritate. My smile fell then, for irritating Auntie was one of the primary things that brought me to this dire moment. I had displeased her with my unusualness, and she was a powerful woman with an unusually strong influence over my admittedly weak mother. For all my intelligence, I never thought to dodge the storm she commanded.

And for all my intelligence, I never thought to keep the Sun Pictures to myself. It was for a good cause that I blabbed, but was it worth it?

Absolutely, positively not.

I lay in the cool grass, breathing hard, thanking God for the cloudy sky. It would be dark soon, but I didn't mind; as long as I wasn't found. As long as I wasn't taken back to _that_ place. The people there were _truly _crazy. And Roddy, well Roddy was absolutely _inhuman_…

But I was getting ahead of myself, Roddy wasn't why I was running away. Roddy wasn't even the problem. No,_ I_ was the problem. Or, more accurately, the Sun Pictures were.

My first memory is of something that hasn't even happened yet. It is a pair of golden eyes; that's it. Nothing else: just those kind, loving, compassionate eyes. I told my mamma about the Honey Eyes, as I'd called them, and she'd tittered at my "silly, childish imaginings". I figured that she wouldn't understand, so I kept Honey Eyes to myself, trying to find them. I didn't see Honey Eyes again for a long time. Not for a few years at least.

Instead, I saw other things. I _heard _other things. Mamma would be throwing me out of the house after a nice breakfast and I would suddenly get a vision of her baking bread for tea time. I would hear snatches of conversation in my head between the people I knew and the people I didn't. Then, maybe a few hours later, I would be walking past an open door and I would hear those conversations again. But not in my head. This went on until I was about ten years old, this random receiving of images and pictures. All the things I Saw were trivial things, things that could barely bother the little rich girl who lived in the manor house.

Everything was so much simpler. Until my tenth birthday, that is.

The day started out with Papa bringing me my favorite breakfast in bed: oatmeal with honey and banana slices. And he made me some coffee. Papa _never_ let me drink coffee. But he said that it was a special day and I was a special girl so he let me drink some. It tasted bitter and not very sweet at first, but afterwards I felt the on top of the world. I don't know if it was the caffeine or just the fact that I was drinking coffee like a _young woman._ I had so longed to leave behind my little girl status. And now that I _am_ a young woman, I find that I long for those days where I was just a little girl.

But when I was a little girl, I fiercely wanted to be a grown up. And so, for my tenth birthday, my young friends and I, all of us proper and well bred ladies, deemed it necessary to take our tea out in Mamma's garden. Mamma always held _her _tea in the garden with _her_ lady friends. So, in a very prim and elegant procession, we girls glided to the magnificently set tea, heads held high, demonic bonnets in place, our mouths held in a pleasant smile as we all attempted to stifle our giggles. Our eyes were bright, our cheeks blushing in excitement, our young souls filled with merriment as we beheld the fantastic garden and our splendid tea table.

Little china plates and cups set for the five chairs around the circular table. There were lacy handkerchiefs poised for dabbing at the mouth, a tiny porcelain saucer for the cream and a finely cut crystal bowl for the sugar. A platter of small mince pies taunted us, their strawberry and blackberry scents lingering in the air with the freesias and lavender. I had inhaled the scent, drinking it all in with my blue eyes and my freckled nose. The world had seemed so perfect, so immortal at the moment; I felt like I knew my place, like I knew who and what I was inside myself. And I felt like my little imaginings were so much more real than what they seemed. I felt like I was on top of the world, a young lady, a powerful and unique little girl.

And then, as I gazed dreamily at the glass bowl of sugar, the sun's little rays of shine shone onto it and rainbows scattered across the white tablecloth. The other girls stared at it, "oohing" and "aahingg" at the colorful effect. But I stood stock still, watching, transfixed. For the beautiful colors in front of my eyes were turning into a vision most foul.

I no longer saw the lovely fairy garden and tea; I saw death.

A carriage was running smoothly down-hill, fine stallions pulling the even finer vehicle along the dust-free road. I recognized the carriage, it belonged to my grandmother. She was supposed to be on her way to my party, but was a bit delayed, she said, taking care of a few issues within her estates. I was very fond of my grandmother; she was a beautiful and kind old woman, with lovely white hair, soft as a cloud and the same bright blue eyes as little old me. She exuded a type of warmth and care that made people gravitate towards her. My mamma and papa adored her, Mamma especially. She may have loved her own mother more than she loved me, and we were all so looking forward to her arrival on my birthday.

But, as I watched my grandmother's carriage roll down hill, I couldn't help but hope that she would never even attempt to come here.

Because suddenly a small black cat came running out of the nearby woods, rushing in front of the horses and frightening them. They reared up as the driver tried to take control. But it was too late. The downhill motion and the two horses moving upwards caused one of the horses to skid backwards and land on its back, legs flailing. The driver was pulled forward and went flying over the horses, landing at the bottom of the hill and rolling into a ditch. Blood stained his skull as his eyes slowly closed.

The horse still standing got another fright from the sight of his handler soaring over him, and he tried to run away, but ended up dragging along the overturned horse and Grandmother's carriage. The two horses were trying to go in separate directions and the horse standing started swerving maniacally in an attempt to get away. But he lost his footing and went sliding down the hill and to the right, where the land dropped away, forming a sheer cliff. The other horse started panicking at the sound of the waves below and thrashed about as it tried to stand. This caused the other horse to go skidding over the edge of the cliff, bringing the overturned horse and the carriage with it. The beautiful sunset seemed at odds with the scene of death and destruction before me.

I heard a faint scream as the horses, carriage, and my beloved Grandmother fell to their deaths.

And then I realized that the scream was my own.

My eyes were open, which was the first thing I realized. My whole body was numb and my fingers were twitching uncontrollably. My vision was stained red, and as I slowly regained my sight, I became aware of two things.

I was still screaming. And it wasn't too late to save Grandmother.

Mamma was holding me in her arms, yelling frantically in my ear to stop screaming. She shook my shoulders, an expression of terror in her lovely eyes. I stopped, and then everything was eerily silent.

That is until Auntie showed up.

"_What_ was that infernal screaming for? Was it the child? I have told you, Miranda, time and again, that she is too spoiled for her own good." I grit my teeth at her scathing voice, choosing to ignore her and focus on the tragedy at hand. In my vision, the sun had been setting, but it was still noon and the sun was high in the sky.

We had time to save her.

"Mamma," I looked at her straight on, my voice pleading with her to understand, "you need to send word to Grandmother that she is not to attend my birthday party. Or, at least, not by carriage. It is imperative that you tell her this, for her life hangs in the balance." Mamma looked at me quizzically.

"Alice, what do you mean? Do you want to hurt her feelings?" she was bewildered. But I pressed on.

"No, I want her to be safe. It is too dangerous for her to come here tonight, because if she does, I can assure you that she will die." Mamma's eyes widened to the size of saucers. But I could barely see it, because in another ray of reflected light I saw my vision change.

Grandmother sat in her rocking chair, a disgruntled look on her face.

"_Why would my own granddaughter refuse to let me see her on her tenth birthday?"_

She didn't look very happy, but she did look very much alive. And a living Grandmother was much preferable to a dead one; even if she was in a mood.

I sighed and smiled at Mamma, knowing she was going to be okay.

"Are you sure, Alice?" She didn't believe me, but she wasn't about to take risks. Mamma knew that I had an uncanny ability for knowing things I wasn't supposed to know. And Mamma didn't want to take risks.

But, apparently, Auntie did.

"What fanciful dreams!" She scoffed at my mother and me, "This child thinks she can make predictions, doesn't she? My word, Miranda! She becomes more like the Gypsies and their godless ways each day!" She tittered, as did the skeptical mothers nearby. Mamma blushed.

I fumed.

"Don't you dare!" I screeched at her, "Everything you say to me or about me is absolutely dripping in barely concealed ill will! Admit it _Auntie, _you would very much like to see the likes of me gone! Shame on you for thinking that way of a child! Shame on you and your _distinguished_-ness; you would do well with a little humbleness; that you would!" I had puffed up in my anger, resembling a cat with a bushy tail. I could almost feel the long hair at my back try to escape its braid and try to lash at the witch in front of me. Her beady little eyes narrowed at me in anger and outrage.

I really could care less what she thought at the moment.

I turned back to a stunned Mamma, horror swimming in her eyes as she beheld my furious raving at her older sister. Mamma had always wanted to be just like that wretch, she said that she was a powerful and respected widow, her husband being murdered years before. Ironically enough, they never found the body. Which lead me to believe that he had run away from her.

Or that she had murdered him herself.

But despite all of my musings, all of my hatred and loathing directed at that spineless fish, Mamma still aspired to be her. And I had just insulted her older sister, whom had always shown her up and been better (according to Mamma at least) than her, in front of all her friends. And I had just insulted her. In front of all those "friends".In an "ungodly" temper, too.

Imagine, a child shaming a woman. It can't be done, it shouldn't be done, and it was done. But it didn't work.

What had I done?

Mamma shook her head slowly at me, a steely resolve in her eyes. _No, no, no…_I could see what she was going to do, without having to See it.

Grandmother was as good as dead.

"Alice, go to your room and compose yourself for when your Grandmother comes. She would be ashamed of you if she heard the way you just spoke to your Auntie, as am I." I shook my head vehemently, the braid swishing back and forth, longing to whip out and smack some sense into Mamma. But she wouldn't see sense, no matter how hard I hit her. Tears pricked at my eyes as she ushered me out of the garden, away from the party, away from the harpy, who was smiling malevolently.

But she couldn't get me away from the thing that hurt me the most: the fact that Grandmother was going to die today, and the fact that Mamma had chosen Auntie over me.

And I knew I would never be able to forgive her for this.

I never let the tears fall and I never let her see me break. I never would again, because she wasn't deserving of it, my frailty, and vulnerability. I still loved her, but I no longer trusted her. Because she didn't trust me, she had humiliated me, she didn't protect me from her wrathful sister, and she was going to let Grandmother die.

And, like the weak child she had made me out to be, I sat on the floor in front of my window, watching as the sun went down.

-~C~-

_**The Hell of After and the Purgatory called Now:**_

_The screams were soft outside my cell, but they were always there. A low, constant hum, much like the song of the crickets…but nowhere near as innocent. And like the crickets, it decreased and increased in pitch until you could barely hear it, or barely hear anything else. But it was always there; watching, waiting, growing in number until everyone in the world but yourself gave into the madness._

_And some days, you couldn't help but want to join in._

I let the grass tickle my face as my mind wandered out of the Before and into the After. God, it was such a terrible start. Such a terrible way to say goodbye. I lifted my head, the tears that had never come that day now streaming down my face. I was not a pretty crier, but is anyone? How can crying be considered pretty? Especially if the reason for the tears is too horrible for any amount of crying to purge. My chest still ached, now, as I lay in the field, too tired to move. I watched with resigned misery as the sun broke from the crowds as it lowered itself to the earth. The sunset was all kinds of colors and oh so very beautiful. But I wasn't able to appreciate it, as it reminded me of another similar sunset. In a room years away, where an empty little girl waited for her visions of death and despair to come true.

And she watched, as I did now, all by herself. She was I, but I am not she. Not any longer, at least. She was naïve and happy; I am worldly and wish for nothing more than to die.

She was at the beginning of the madness and I am somewhere near the end. Hopefully.

The tears dried as I reminisced.

I had sat all alone in my room, like the bad little girl they all saw me to be. The room got darker, but I never moved from my spot, never blinked. I just watched the sun as it sunk slowly to the edge of the world, finally slipping over the side into a happier place than this. The sky went black, the stars twinkled to life, the moon held domain over the inky night; a beautiful, luminescent thing, so much more sensual and soothing than the sun.

I had always preferred the night.

But the night was considered a time for evil by all the ignorant peoples. Do you think it matters to the devil what time of day it is? No, he still tempts us when the sun is up. He catches us off guard, drives his sword into our hearts when we are weak and vulnerable. Why would he do his business at night; the time when everybody expects him?

And no sunlight meant no Sun Pictures.

But I never told anyone this; it would be heathen of me. I was much too young to even be thinking about things like that. According to my Auntie at least.

But that night had not been beautiful to me; I was much too numb to feel anything, much too dead to notice the night and its capacity for life. I sat there looking but not seeing, and listening for the sounds of panic which would eventually come. Voices had started up, loud and scared. Frantic steps, running, doors crashing and shouts ringing through the corridors. Nobody remembered the birthday girl, sitting in her room, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

I'd known that they hadn't accepted it yet. And then I was hit with a vision.

My mother, hunched over the dead body of Grandmother's driver, howling and screaming in agony.

I flinched, her pain becoming mine. But I never moved, I just sat there, still as a mirror. And then, an hour or only minutes later, a soft voice was whispering in my head.

_Faceless, loveless_

_All alone_

_The little girl cries_

_For her broken home_

_Lost, without hope_

_A nest-less bird_

_She screams, and she's failing_

_To banish her hurt_

A vision? The voice of insanity knocking at my fragile psyche? I didn't have time to find out, for at that exact moment another scream ripped through the house. A door crashed open and sobbing could be heard. I sat still as stone, the sound of footsteps crashing down the hall and to my room not moving me in the least. The door was flung away as the figure ran across my room. Only to stop behind me. I turned slowly.

And looked into the deadened eyes of my mother.

"Mamma..." I whispered. She cringed. I still felt no tears.

"You knew, you _knew,"_ she moaned, her arms crossed at the chest like she was trying to hold herself together. She rocked back and forth, repeating the accusation.

You knew. You knew. You knew.

But what she was really saying was that _she_ knew. Because _I_ had told her. And she should have believed me.

Suddenly, Auntie's and Papa's faces appeared in the doorway. Papa was looking at Mamma with a pained expression and Auntie was looking at me with a wild and ferocious look in her eyes. She ran across the room and grabbed my upper arms, shaking me violently.

"This is all your fault! You little _demon_! You cursed her! You said it was going to happen and it did; you killed her!" I knew that this pain and rage wasn't born from love for her mother. She also knew that she could have done something, could have saved her. And the guilt was weighing her down, so she decided to pin the blame on me before somebody else pointed fingers. I lay limp as she screamed, as Mamma fell to the ground sobbing, and as Papa ignored me, choosing instead to help up his devastated wife.

Mamma fell into his arms. And then she looked at him imploringly as Auntie's words rung out into the otherwise silent night.

"You cursed her! You killed her!"

Mamma turned to me, her dead eyes taking on a flame of fury. And then she eyed me like she hated me, like she had never even seen me before; I was no longer her daughter. Because, according to Auntie, this was all _my _fault. And Auntie was always right.

I turned to Papa, knowing already what he would think. But he refused to meet my eyes, choosing instead to hold Mamma tightly to him. And I knew that he was taking her side, he was dismissing me.

I no longer mattered.

That was when the world went black.

I opened my eyes in the Now, remembering the whole of my world as it was before it crashed and burned to the ground. I was thankful that I even _could_ remember, considering what else had happened to me. I was sucked dry, and I can barely believe that these things I'm thinking about can even be _thought_ about. I'm grateful, no matter how sad my memories are.

At least I still have them.

I chuckled ruefully, my face finally dry. I sat up slowly, wincing at my sore muscles. My whole body ached, but I was alive. And I was free, though I wasn't sure for how long. I hadn't been free in what seemed like forever. The last time I was free was when I passed out in my room after realizing that my parents were, in some shape or form, no longer my parents. For they were turning their backs on me. That was the last time outside of a cage.

Because when I woke up I was definitely trapped.

I remember the blackness that had consumed me and left me dreamless; I was drifting in a lake on a moonless night. But then, slowly, the moon rose in the sky, bathing my world in color. And then I realized I wasn't on a lake, and I wasn't seeing the moon. I was waking up, but I refused to open my eyes.

I knew, somehow, that what I was going to see was something entirely different. And different was bad, very bad. I was different. And I was a bad little girl.

I heard before I saw. My eyes were closed, but I was conscious, I was alive. And I was awake.

What startled me was the sound of heavy breathing. A cool damp wind on my brow, perspiring in the breath of whoever it was; and they were leaning very close. _Very _close. So, instinctually, I opened my eyes.

And I was looking into a pair of silver eyes. Pale, silvery, almost fog-like eyes. It was curious, and odd, and unnatural. But it was also terrifying.

It was inhuman.

I screamed.

I tried to back away from the silvery eyes, but found that I was being held down. No, _strapped _down. I turned my head to find that I was on a table, and that my legs, arms, torso, feet, and hands were hugged to the table by what looked like a series of belts. I knew that it was pointless to squirm, so I held still and looked up into the face of the most beautiful man I had ever seen in all of my life.

Silver Eyes.

His hair was darker than mine even, much like the blackness I had just woken from. Little curls escaped to hug his strong brow, hanging elegantly over his unnatural eyes. His skin was a pale white, porcelain and delicate, yet at the same time harder, it seemed, than the table on which I was kept captive. He had strong, masculine features: square jaw, heavy brow, broad shoulders, and an aquiline nose. His cheekbones were high and defined; his lips pink and plump. He couldn't have been more than sixteen, a boy. But he was a man. I had no doubt about that. And I couldn't find the will to move away from him, no, I wanted to move towards him. Closer, close enough to touch. Close enough to _kiss._

I shook my head at that outrageous thought. I was still a young girl, thoughts like-like _that, _were outrageously inappropriate. And I had never had an… urge, ever, like that. I eyed the beautiful man more carefully now.

He was still gorgeous, but I was on my guard. Something about him wasn't right.

In all the worst ways.

"Hello," he grinned down at me before moving away again. It was a very pretty grin, but I wasn't distracted by his beauty this time. Nor by his pretty mouth.

His voice was…I don't even know how to describe it.

It was the sound of wings beating and bells ringing, the sound of creatures snarling, and creaking floorboards in the night. It sent cold and hot chills down my spine and all he did was smile wider.

"H-hello, who are you?" My voice trembled slightly. His teeth glinted in the lamplight overhead.

"Where am I?" I tried to turn my head to see around me but he gripped my jaw tightly. It hurt…_a lot._ And his skin was freezing cold, like his hand had been sitting in ice for twenty minutes before it decided to squeeze the life out of my face. I winced.

His fingers tightened.

"My name is Rodolph, but you can call me Roddy. And who are you sweet little girl?" he leaned closer, so that our faces were only inches apart.

"As for where you are, well I believe you already know," he chuckled darkly. What could he mean? I had no idea as to my whereabouts, I mean, I'd gotten a tiny little look at the room I was in, and I was strapped to a table, but I could swear that I'd never been here before.

Although people are only strapped to tables in hospitals and…and-

Mental facilities.

I could feel the panic paralyze me. My body went completely numb, like I was submerged in ice. And at the bottom of this misty glacier I was thrust into, sat a picture of terror.

"_Little girls don't belong here," _the voice slithered around me, caressing and violating my ice-cold skin.

"_But I'm not complaining; I mean, you just smell _so_ good…"_ I was ready to scream, ready to pull at the straps and thrash around until they let me out, but then I heard something rather odd.

Someone was laughing.

I turned my head to see Roddy, hands on knees, doubled over, laughing. He shook with the force of his mirth, absolutely convulsed with it. And I just watched, mystified. He finally managed to compose himself and looked up at me, those misty eyes swimming in tears.

Tears of _laughter._

"Oh, I'm so glad you're here!" He crowed with delight. Then he winked at me again.

"You make everything so much more amusing." He smiled at me, expecting me to smile back, I suppose. Or maybe he was just hoping to get a reaction.

Well…it worked.

I felt an unholy fury crash over me. Wave after wave of pure anger and hatred just plowing into me, bashing me, pulling me and twisting me in swirling currents. And I sank lower and lower until I was sitting in the belly of the fury, the storm of emotions becoming too much for me.

"What, pray tell, is so funny?" I stated as calmly as I could to Roddy. He grinned maniacally.

"You," he said, that infuriating smile still glinting at me in the overhead light.

"And why do I amuse you so?" My composure was not so calm at that statement; I was somewhat gritting my teeth and clenching my fists. Roddy let loose an insane giggle.

"Because you know where you are, and we both know you don't belong here," he let out another snicker.

"Oh, what a little tragedy you are, dear girl!" he cooed at me, "So very lucid; so very in your right state of mind. You are just a _tad_ bit unusual, no? What with those intriguing visions of yours…" I gaped at him but he just grinned again.

"Oh, we both know that you are not insane, and we both know of your gift, do we not? And the irony of it all- ha! The completely _human_ nature of your debut is the fact that you were out to do _good_ with your talents. And for that you have been cast away and left with the worst, no, the _best _of your species!" He giggled again.

"Dear, dear girl! You are strapped to a table, and yet you are still in denial! Well deny no longer, embrace the truth and be set free! Ha, what a load of tripe; the truth is that you've been placed in the insane asylum by your own family. Your own flesh and blood!" He started laughing madly at that point.

"They called you insane! Oh- but aren't we all?" He could barely get the words out of his mouth; his voice choked up with chuckles and giggles and snickers and I was filled with something entirely _different._

Something entirely more dangerous.

I was _livid._

"YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT?" I screamed it at him with all my might. My throat felt raw from the force of it. And it wiped that smirk off his face.

"What kind of sick, twisted person are you? You stand there and you laugh at me, a ten year old CHILD. And you laugh at me because I have been shunned, abandoned, betrayed, disowned, and ripped away from my family! You laugh because I am strapped to a table, in a hospital for the mentally sick, when in all reality, I AM PERFECTLY SANE! "How ironic!" you say, "How amusing!" you say. Well you know what this perfectly dignified and supposedly INSANE young woman has to say to you?" I took a deep breath, praying to God that I wouldn't go to hell for this.

"I think you are a dastardly ass, a bastard, and a son of a bitch. Curse you! Damn you! Blast you! You are a piece of low life crap and I can't stand the sight of you. Oh, and you are so much more insane than I, obviously. What'd _your_ family do? Willingly give you away for no other reason than that they couldn't bear to be near you without wanting to retch? If that's the case than I don't blame them," I huffed at him. Hoping that he was offended, understanding that he was in a good position to kill me at the moment, and praying that if I did indeed die the Good Father would forgive my current sins.

While knowing all the while that I was in some deep horse manure.

But, of course, Roddy had to go ahead and laugh again. I was completely ready to go to hell for sure by severing his head from his body, God be damned (ooh, I was in a temper alright). But I wasn't able to get in an edgewise word or comment or curse because Roddy decided to surprise me again.

"The kitten has a nasty bite, does she not? And she has some backbone too, I believe. Well if that is the case, I would presume that she has enough spine to stand on her own." He approached my dreaded table and untied me. I sat up slowly, wincing at the soreness of my stiff muscles. It reminded me of the first time I went horseback riding; how the next day I felt like the agony would kill my fragile body. I had become much stronger since then, but I was still a weakling, in a way. The horseback riding lessons were brought to the forefront of my mind, and in an attempt to distract myself from the situation at hand, I reminisced. And it was achingly bittersweet.

When I finally brought my head back to the present I realized that, whether or not I wanted to, it was best to apologize to Roddy. Or best to murder him quietly. He had untied me (and ridiculed me) and I had been lying on that table for quite a while, I'm sure. And when I turned to thank or kill Roddy, I found that he was no longer smiling. He seemed to be in a daze as he looked at me. His eyes were glassy and a slow, an easy smile spread across his face. His whole posture relaxed and he almost glowed. I was struck again by his unnatural beauty; it was potent. It was almost too perfect to be real.

He was almost too lovely to look at.

"Oh, sweet Alice. Such wonderful memories, I am so very glad you came here. You have such clear emotions, such strong feelings, such clarity in your past endeavors. Your mind is undoubtedly beautiful. And, good lord, does it taste good," he sucked in a huge breath of air through his nose, eyes closing in rapture; almost like he was smelling the most delicious of all banquets in the world, and the feast was there for the savoring.

It was, without question, _weird._

"Oh you don't understand, do you?" Roddy sighed like he was frustrated with me for some reason.

"Know _what?"_ I was definitely frustrated. And he was definitely frustrating. But Roddy just smiled at me again, that damn smile…

"Just the teensy bitsy fact that you aren't the only one with super weird, special, and entirely incriminating powers," I squinted at him. Was he suggesting that he could…See…things too? Or could he do something else?

Or was he just insane? This was a mental institution after all.

Roddy frowned at me. I huffed; instead of making him look contrary, it just made him look even more beautiful. I don't think anything but those maddening jibes of his at my complete misery could make him less beautiful.

It really, truly, made me, for use of a better word, pissed.

Roddy grinned at me again, seeming to know what I was thinking, and he helped me off the table without another word. I barely got a look at the plain white room with only a table and chair for décor before I was whisked out of the room and into a corridor. It was long, gray, filled with doorways, and flickering lights. The doors had tiny windows placed high up, too far for my small frame to see. But I stopped trying to look in when I heard the noises from inside the rooms.

Moaning, groaning, screaming, and laughing. Sounds of misery, sounds of pain, sounds of torture, giggles of mad people. That was when it hit me; I was in an insane asylum. And they thought I was like these people; these mad, mad people who sat behind closed doors, probably strapped up for their own good. I turned my head, my hand still held loosely in Roddy's icy one, to see his grim expression. He looked down to see me gazing questioningly at him. He grimaced, shook his head, and motioned to the end of the hall, where a slightly smaller and lighter doorway waited to be opened by us. We passed through as I sighed in relief. The noises were quickly stifled; like a pillow was smothering those screams.

Although why I thought of it like _that_, like a pillow smothering some screams, like slowly suffocating whoever was screaming, I guess I would never know. But it felt like a pillow. A deadly, deadly pillow.

I think the morbidity of the place was getting to me.

We passed through yet another door until, in a rush it seemed, we came to another tall, windowed door. It had a plate on it, stating its number, and…and…

**Serial No. 897 Door No. 36**

**Name: Alice Mary Carson**

**Diagnosis: Schizophrenia, Insanity**

I shook my head. This was not happening, I refused to believe it. But Roddy was pushing me forward and opening the door. I was pushed into a high ceilinged white room, with a cot in one corner, a curtain in another, and a dressing table next to the cot. The curtain hid a fairly clean toilet, and the cot looked comfy enough, but I was still wary.

I was not in the mood to look for the pros in staying in a furnished room at a mental institution.

"Well, this will be your room. Unless you attempt suicide; then you'd be moved to the hall we just walked through. The people in there are left in padded rooms with straitjackets. For their own good of course. But they don't seem to think that, and so that infernal screaming all day. They do know how to throw the mother of all temper tantrums." He smiled weakly. He knew joking about the matter wouldn't make it any less horrendous to me. Or to him.

Because we both knew that I didn't belong there.

"Well… I'll just be going then. I'll see you later." He nodded at me then left the room. A cold metallic clink followed him out as the door shut and the lock smoothly turned into place. I saw only the window in the door. And then, nothing at all.

_It was dark; so black that I felt like I was being hugged by Night herself. And I say hugged because I wasn't scared. The darkness was comforting, it was freeing. Nobody could see me and I couldn't see anything._

_And then, I did see something. I saw golden eyes, floating out in front of me. Suspended in space like the wings on angels. Soon I was seeing a body, too, connected to those lovely eyes. Golden hair, spun from the fibers of the heavens. It was a he; a rather extraordinarily beautiful he. More gorgeous than Roddy even._

_He looked very similar to Roddy; he was pale, he was strong and masculine, he looked like he was made from marble. But his eyes were not the soulless mist of Roddy's; they were as warm and living and honeyed as the shards of sunlight that would play on the wall of my room at home. And his smile, his smile did not taunt, it did not condescend. His smile comforted and warmed me like the fire in the winter. And when he smiled, when the corners of his perfect mouth curled upwards, when he smiled at_ me_, I knew that I was in love. This was my soul mate and he was waiting for me. I loved him and he loved me; I was sure of it._

_Then the vision changed._

_His features distorted, the blonde hair shortened and faded away. It was now a thick brown color, like the trunks of mighty trees. And his beautiful, perfect, wonderful eyes were no longer honey. They were red. Redder than red, they were bloodred. And for some insanely exact reason, I felt like they were actually _stained_ with blood. _My _blood._

_This was no longer my soul mate, no, this was someone wholly different. He was pale and strong and hungry, starving, for my blood. He was not the one I loved. He was my predator._

_And then, in one moment, one teensy, tiny, short lived moment of pure absolute terror, I knew what it was like to die._

_I knew what it was like to be the prey._

-~C~-

The days passed in much the same way: wake up, take care of necessities, Roddy brings me breakfast, Roddy stays to talk and fend off the "doctors", Roddy brings me out on a walk, lunch, more talking, some free time, dinner, bed. Some days I took a shower, some days I read a book that Roddy gave. But not much happened other than that. I soon found out that Roddy was the owner of the asylum and he soon became my…acquaintance, I guess. We talked about everything. His life, my life, his travels, etc. everything and anything was fair game. And I found myself looking forward to these talks. His visits became the one breath of fresh air in the cycle of same that I had been thrust into.

Days turned into weeks, weeks to months, months to years. Soon, seven years had passed and I was still there in the asylum. I still had visions every now and then, especially when Roddy took me out on a sunny day, but they had become less frequent and more trivial. Nothing big was Seen in those seven years and I didn't really mind. They were the least of my problems.

I never got word from Mother or Father or Auntie again. The pain I felt, that huge chasm in my heart, had dulled to a deep ache, instead of the sharp sadness I felt when I thought of them. Sometimes Roddy would bring me news, like the fact that Auntie had remarried a rich widower and that Mother and Father had another child. That last one was a shock to me; I had a little brother. But he would never meet me; would probably never be told about his insane and estranged older sister. I became uncaring as the years passed, the resentment within me growing until I could barely even remember the old times, when things were good. And that was another thing. The remembering, I mean.

I was losing my memory.

I didn't know how and I didn't know why, but I had a theory. An insane, crazy, spectacularly unbelievable theory. I thought that it had something to do with Roddy. Whenever he brought up the Before, as I had come to call it, I would get the weirdest feeling as I reminisced. Almost like…_something_ was sucking my brains out through a big mental straw. I would feel emptied but peaceful too. I was almost comatose after these "sessions". That's Roddy's word for them, not mine. And he would always have the biggest smile on his face, like he'd been filled up after a big meal.

It was creepy, and weird, and relaxing, and infuriating. After seven years of these "sessions", I felt almost like the little girl who woke up on satin sheets and the girl who woke up in a cell each day were no longer the same person. _She _was I but _I _was not she. She had constants in her life; my life _is_ constant. She felt things; I didn't. I was so numb, like I was frozen in time. And I was fine with that. I would get little inklings of feelings every now and then, but they were so few and far between that I barely noticed them. I didn't realize it then, but I was becoming less and less alive as the years went by, that by the time _he_ showed up I was nearly a corpse.

A living, breathing, walking, talking corpse.

But it wasn't until the day I became alive again that I was almost killed for sure.

The day had started normally: I woke up to a dark room, with only the low hum of the inmates screaming and crying around me to break the silence. But I was used to those cries, they were always there. And though I had yet to catch more than a glimpse of these insane persons, I was more than familiar with their wailing and crying. But that morning I had the strangest urge to meet them. I don't know why, and I don't ever think I will, but I got up and sat by the door patiently waiting for Roddy to come. And when the door opened I rushed out, ignoring my breakfast altogether. Roddy grabbed my arm, the icy cold sending a shock to my already alert brain.

"And where, exactly, do you think you are going?" He raised his eyebrow at me. I smiled, but it was more of a weak grin.

"I want to eat out with the others today." He looked at me questioningly, I had never asked to eat with the other residents before. Actually, I had requested to eat in my cell at first. The possibility of meeting truly unstable people had terrified me.

Apparently, that wasn't a problem anymore.

Roddy shrugged and led me out to the Square. He sat me at one of the small wooden tables and set my tray down before me. I looked around at the ten or so other people eating. They all looked perfectly normal to me. I mean, okay there may have been an eye twitch or a stray hair every here and there, but still. They all looked, well, sane.

We all knew differently though.

And I was too distracted by trying to understand how this was so to see the figure coming our way. Then I felt Roddy stiffen beside me and turned to see _him_. The one from my vision.

The Predator.

His hair was a mahogany brown color, just like I remembered. And his eyes were red. So, so red. He smiled at me, baring his unusually sharp teeth. But before he could even get a word out of his mouth, Roddy was leading me away from the table, the Square, and the Predator with a low hiss. An inhuman hiss.

He dragged me quickly back to my cell, then slammed the door shut behind us after turning on the lamp.

"Damn it! Damn it all to hell!" He swore and pulled at his hair. Then he punched the wall, leaving a sizeable hole behind. And he didn't even flinch.

"Roddy, what's wrong? Who was that?" Roddy chuckled darkly and stalked over to my side. He leaned in close, really, really close, and looked me in the eye.

"What's wrong is that cretin wants to take my pet away from me. He wants a nice little meal and a nice little game. But I don't think that's going to happen. And who was he? Your worst nightmare, that's who. He's a vampire, Alice. Just like me. And he's out for blood. Your blood, namely." I stared at him in shock, not really comprehending. Vampire? I know I'm in an insane asylum, but _really_?

Although, those eyes…those red eyes…

"What do you mean? Vampire? Ok, then if he's a vampire and you're a vampire why haven't you taken a taste of my blood yet, huh?" I was somewhat sarcastic on that note. But really, if he was a vampire and was around me for how many years…it just didn't add up. But Roddy just gave me another laugh; a very non-happy, curse your stupidity laugh.

"Because I'm a special vampire," he spoke to me like he would a toddler, "and I don't need blood to survive." I raised my eyebrow at him, like he'd done to me over a million times, crossed my arms at my chest, and tapped my foot impatiently. He would have to explain a little more than that. I was a seventeen year old woman, not a small child who could be consoled with the use of the word "special". Roddy huffed.

"Fine then. Look, for all my immortal life I have been privy to the thoughts, memories, and emotions of those around me. But instead of being able to manipulate those sacred things, I am able to…feed off of them. I absorb memories and emotions and very rarely thoughts to satisfy me. That's why I bought this place. The thoughts and emotions of the insane are so much more intense and tasty. I don't need blood," he invaded my personal space once again, his nose sniffing at my neck, his hand going around my waist and pulling me to him.

"I will admit that your scent is borderline intoxicating, but why would I ever risk the taking of one of your ruby droplets when I can have your mind. And your mind is so _delicious_," he nearly moaned the word and his arm tightened painfully around my waist. A hot shiver ran up and down my spine, attempting to warm me against his icy flesh.

"Roddy! Vampire wants to eat me; can we get back to the point please?" I pushed insistently at his chest and he backed away, though somewhat reluctantly. He smiled wryly.

"True, very true. That vampire wants to eat you; _has_ wanted to for a while actually. He's a visitor to the asylum, looking for some of the blood samples that I offer to travelling nomads. He picked up on your scent last week and he stuck around, asking about the exquisite little girl who was sitting in one of our cells. I thought he was gone, but apparently I was wrong," a shadow passed over his handsome face. Then he put a hand to my face and closed his eyes. I felt a rush of power flow into my veins, up to my mind, and in flashes I regained back the memories and feelings that Roddy had stolen from me.

"You'll need these, to become stronger when you face him. Which you will. I've seen it in your mind." He smiled at me sadly.

"I need to stop him. You stay here," and then so softly, I almost couldn't hear him, "If I can't have you than neither will he."

-~C~-

_**Up to Now and Then Onward:**_

_I waited for Roddy to come back._

_He didn't._

_And when I tried the door I found that it was unlocked. In a moment of lucid clarity I realized that this was it; it was time to go, now. And forever._

So I ran out the unlocked door, down the empty hallway, out the back door, and across the front lawn. Nobody stopped me, nobody saw me; maybe God hadn't truly abandoned me yet. And when I got to the gate, I found that it, too, was miraculously open. The stars had aligned and my luck had finally changed.

It was time to escape.

I ran and ran and ran, until I could run no more. Clouds had been setting in when I started out, and by the time I collapsed from exhaustion in a barren field, they covered the sky in a wooly blanket. I lay there panting, no longer able to run any further, no longer able to do anymore than wait. Wait and remember that I was free.

I had all my memories, but I knew I wouldn't for long.

Which brings me to the present. And as I lay in that field, waiting for the worst, I heard the soft panting of another. And turning, I saw a figure approach me.

Roddy.

He stumbled towards me, his eyes somewhat crazed. His demeanor was disheveled, as was his sanity. He grabbed my arm, almost painfully and brought it to his mouth. Then, with one last glance my way, he bit down.

The pain was unbelievable. It rocketed into me and if I'd been standing it would have knocked me down. It felt like I was being burned at the stake.

And through my screams I heard him soothing me, telling me things.

"He will kill me, I know it. But when he gets here you will be long past gone from this world. Your blood will no longer exist and neither will I. He will be furious to lose, I just barely managed to hold him back at the institution. But you are safe now." He smiled at me. And seeing the sorrow in his eyes, I offered him one last thank you for all he had done for me, for befriending me when I was alone, even if it was for selfish reasons.

_Take my memories._

His eyes widened as he searched my own. Something must have confirmed it for him, because he leaned down and softly pressed his stone cold lips to mine in a bittersweet kiss.

"Thank you," he whispered.

And as Roddy sucked away from me all I could finally remember, I saw my life flash before my eyes and slowly slip away. I saw the happy, funny, innocent, ignorant little girl. I saw the intelligent, numb, sarcastic, and broken young woman I had become. I saw me and all that I was. I was finally accepting who I was when it all went to ashes. The pain mounted, my screams escalated in pitch, and the darkness consumed.

_Honey Eyes stood before me, his beautiful smile soothing my shattered soul._

_Alice, come find me. My name is Jasper. I am waiting._

_You have a whole life ahead of you, dearest, with me. Now open your eyes._

-~C~-

_**The Beginning:**_

_My name is Alice, I am Alice. And that is all I know._

_I can See things, strange things. But I know they are true. And I can see Jasper, he's waiting for me somewhere. And I have to find him._

_I am Alice. And that is all I will ever be._

* * *

_Review and vote please!_


End file.
